CONVENTION MAGIC

by Anonymous

Editor’s Note: Do you remember your first adolescent love?
Do you remember the breathless, giddy joy; the stomach-clenching angst—and
the terror that your parents will make a big deal about it, or even TELL other
people that you have a boy/girl -friend? If you do, then I don’t have to explain
why the author of this article asked to remain anonymous, or why she asked
that the names be changed to protect the guilty—oops, “innocent” parties! But
before I give too much away, here is “Anonymous” to tell us her story about
“Convention Magic”:

I remember the first time I witnessed Con-vention Magic. It
was at National Convention. The day’s sessions were over. Several parents from
my state were relaxing in a restaurant in the Dallas Airport Hilton. The son
of one of the parents came breezing up to our table, brand new NFB long white
cane in hand.

“Mom, I’m going to go have dinner with Al. I’ll be back in about
two hours.”

“But, Winston, I don’t know where I’ll be in two hours. And
where will you be? Where would we meet?”

“Don’t worry about it, Mom. I’ve got a key. I’ll see you back
in the room later.”

Now this exchange would not have been out of the ordinary in
any way, except that before this day Winston had never ventured off anywhere
on his own. In fact, though he was totally blind, he had hardly even used a
cane before. Now, he’d already been gone half the day and suddenly he was on
his way out to dinner with a new-found friend.

See ya’ later, Mom. Convention Magic.

The heady feeling of independence that Winston’s mom was experiencing—Wow,
I’m free! I don’t have to take care of my kid!—was palpable. My daughter was
several years younger than Winston. Would there ever come a day when I would
be able to sit casually in a restaurant while my child just went out?

As the years—and the conventions—went on, I saw Convention
Magic manifest itself many times. In the relatively small and safe environment
of our NFB State Convention hotels, I watched kids who had simply never gone
anywhere on their own get the urge to go and explore. Elevators, escalators,
soda and ice machines—all were great motivators. I watched as one boy decided
to go up to his room on his own. He made it. A girl located a friend at the
foot of the escalator. The whole gang of our almost-teen-agers found their
way to somebody’s room for snacks, a movie, and a pillow fight.

But this past year, at NFB National Convention, Convention Magic
cast its gentle spell over my kid. We hadn’t seen her since lunchtime. She
was hanging out in the Teen Room while my husband, John, and I attended the
Resolutions Committee meeting. John started toward the back of the room for
a drink of water but quickly came racing back.

“Donna, you’ve got to come back here quick. You won’t believe
this!”

“What is it?” I asked as we hurried toward the back of the room.
Then I saw it. Framed in the doorway of the ballroom was our daughter standing
head to head with a young man about her age—sixteen. They seemed engrossed
in conversation and every so often, the boy moved his arm up to Belinda’s shoulder
and rested it there a moment.

I was shocked. Belinda had never even flirted with a boy before,
never mind let one touch her! Fighting back the wild urge to tell him to keep
his no good, dirty hands off my daughter, I walked over and casually said,
“Hi, Belinda. What’s up?”

“Oh, hi Mom. We came in here to see if we could find you and
Dad. We’re going over to the Mock Trial, and I wanted to let you guys know
where I’d be.”

“Okay,” we agreed hesitantly. “We’ll come and find you in the
Mock Trial room when it’s over.”

“Okay, see ya.”

And with that, my daughter was off. My daughter and a boy. Whew.

I have to admit my husband and I couldn’t resist following the
pair, first to make sure they got to the room all right and then to see what
the heck they were doing. We peeked in, oh, only five or six times.

They were fine. They were sitting there listening, talking,
laughing. Looked pretty normal. Looked pretty good. Every once in a while their
heads leaned in toward one another’s.

We were back at the dot of seven to pick Belinda up. The following
conversation ensued.

“So, you like this guy?”

“Oh, yeah, we really have a lot in common. And he’s really nice.”

“That’s great, honey.”

“He said I have really small hands.”

(AND HOW WOULD THIS CASANOVA HAVE FOUND OUT THAT MY DAUGHTER
HAS SMALL HANDS?????)

“We thought a kiss on the cheek. That would be okay in public,
right?”

Whew. “Yup, that’s just fine,” I said with relief.

The next day Belinda got to discover another typical teen-age
experience—teen angst. She had been hanging out in the Teen Room with a girlfriend
the day that she met HIM. When Belinda and Michael decided to go to the Mock
Trial, Belinda invited Laura along. Laura, convinced that she was definitely
third-wheel status, rather dramatically refused. Belinda left with Michael.

Later, back in the room, we found an emotional message from
Laura on our tape, expressing her distress that Belinda had ditched her for
a guy. Overcome with guilt, Belinda called Laura back to beg her forgiveness.
Alas, no one was in the room, and Belinda had to leave a message. ALL NIGHT
LONG, through dinner, through our evening activities, through getting ready
for bed, John and I listened to Belinda’s anguished laments. “Will she forgive
me? I really didn’t mean to leave her out. I asked her to come. It’s not my
fault she wouldn’t come. She could have come with us. I’m so sorry. Will she
forgive me?”

I am happy to report that Belinda’s apology was accepted and
the two friends went out for ice cream the next day.

That evening, one more sweet thing happened. Belinda and I were
sitting in a computer meeting when I happened to notice Michael come in and
sit down in the back of the room. “Belinda,” I whispered, “Michael is here.
Why don’t you go back and say hello.”

I pointed Belinda in Michael’s general direction and heard her
calling his name in order to locate him. You should have seen how his face
lit up when he heard her voice and realized it was Belinda. Wow, a boy lighting
up over my girl’s presence. That was a pretty sight.

Could these events have happened elsewhere? I guess they could
have. But they didn’t. They happened at the NFB Convention, the place where
our kids can venture out, taste some independence, try out a few skills, and
have new experiences—all with thousands of blind people around to provide help
and inspiration!